


For the sun and the lyre

by CSantos14



Category: SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Ancient Greece, F/M, Love, Love Confessions, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance, Shakespearean Language, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSantos14/pseuds/CSantos14
Summary: I'm learning to write in Shakespeare's vocabulary and I decided to share what I wrote here. I don't know under what category it falls to but I hope its worth reading. It's not a story nor a poem, it's hard to explain.





	For the sun and the lyre

All sayeth love is ought to beest a benediction. For this courtship is did compare to the young affection between the two rival families and their young lovers, to the worthy soldier of ancient who is’t did lose ‘t’s lover by the foe, and the damsel did fetch by the daring knight. 

For wherefore don’t they speaketh of the burning flames of a mortal and an eternal one? Oh but wherefore don’t they speaketh of ‘t? Hath’t did turn into a forbidden thing? 

Haply ‘t’s because ‘t hath did turn into nothing but a myth and legend, for yond is what history teaches. For ‘t’s just an fusty speck of sand in an fusty desert.

For which I wilt confess from the depths of mine heart, yond what I feeleth is the burning flames inside of me for a immortal of ancient. Oh but wherefore wilt I suffer under the hands of an unreal love? Am I not worthy of the love of flesh and bones? 

This roaming flame grows whenever the traveling lamp kisses mine gentle cheeks. ‘t’s brightness illuminates me through the dunnest times. For the warmth of flaring star art seen as comfort hugs to mine corse.

The lyre of yours endues melodies to mine ears. Thy fingers sliding to maketh a perfect harmony and thy talents reflect on thy origins of fusty. 

Luring me into thy enchantment. For which I close mine eyes to escape from this reality of mine but then again, I wilt answer actuality.

The sonnets yond cometh from thy lips blesses me, though ‘t can bewray one’s true self. The self yond we are willing to express and not showeth. The one yond hides in the depths of our souls.

For the most wondrous authors of literature hath’t did bless thy image.

To thy arrow yond at each moment aims to the wars of ancient. Mine lief traveling lamp god, wast thee the one who is’t did drive the arrow to Thetis’ son? Wast thee part of this naughty plan?

Oh for the heavens see me suffer.  
Oh for mine heart might shatter.  
Oh Kratos, giveth me the strength to bare with this.

But hither I still standeth with the arrow yond Eros did strike ‘gainst mine heart. I wonder wherefore did doth the god of love aimed towards me at which hour all he hath done is maketh suffering towards an impossible intimacy. For in my creed this is absurd, but I can’t deny what the cosmos hath done.

Moreover mine lips wilt still long for yours and mine ears wilt still wait for thy voice. But wherefore speaketh of lips yond can sin? What about the mind? Can’t sin ranker? 

The heart doesn’t sin for which all yond’t knoweth to doth is liveth and love. If ‘t be true ‘t doesn’t sin then did let me talk from the enshielf silhouettes of mine heart.

Oh for thee remind me of the flaring star everyday. For mine fingers long to roam ‘gainst thy hair.

The lovely swans yond wend ‘round the lakes remind me of thy presence. For such animal is did doth sayeth to beest did bless by thee.

I’m reminded of thy soul whenever I did read books of fusty, legends and myths. They uncover thy life like an ope book. 

Thy statues illustrate the handsomeness thee quite possessed.

Thy story endues me excitement. If ‘t be true thee wast hither, mine heart would’ve been thy home and mine soul would’ve did feel did absolute.

At which hour I’m passing through hard times and gouts of sorrow becometh ingraft thy travelling lamp endues comforts mine silence.

I envy the people yond maketh an affection from the depths of their hearts, since I feeleth the same but for someone who is't is just extinct and did mark in volumes of ancient. 

For i wilt quiet this roaming fire because time passes by and for at which hour 't’s time for me to marry, i wilt this fire off with water. But mine heart wilt feeleth warmth and mine smileth wilt blossom for which i wilt calleth mine children after thee. 

This wilt at each moment did remain since 't wast bestowed by the god of love, himself. The cosmos wilt see and the wind yond is fusty like time wilt witness this. 

Reality maketh mine heart sink, for which I knoweth we would nev'r meeteth. I wilt nev'r receiveth to feeleth thy gentle lips or the sensation of seeing the person yond I most plaited. Thy eyes would nev'r stare with mine. This reality maketh me did shed a drop of sorrow, for yond I wilt comfort myself with what 't’s only writ about thee. 

But then I wonder, is't possible to love someone who is't’s not real? For only the sir who is't knoweth the answer isn’t hither anymore. 

Whe’r this is or not, I wilt carryeth thee in mine beating heart until mine last breath.


End file.
